There's Something About Amelia
by CandorTaylor
Summary: *OLD SCHOOL SPN* Back in those first seasons with good old salt and burn action going on. The brothers travel to the small town of Chester, North Dakota after a mysterious string of murders surrounding a young librarian plagues the peace.
1. Chapter 1

**I was re-marathoning season one this week and I felt in the mood to write one of those simple little episodes with the small town haunting thingies. Back to old school salt and burn Supernatural**

**I do not own Supernatural (as much as I'd love to!). Chester, North Dakota is not real (I'm pretty sure) and any relations to persons living or dead blah blah blah you know the drill.**

**Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

"So get this. Some small town, Chester, North Dakota- four murders in the past week." Sam said from the passenger seat of the Impala. "All linked to this Amelia Carson girl. Sound strange to you?"

Dean turned to face his brother with an uninterested expression. "Or maybe she's just some whacko serial killer chick."

"That could sound right- thing is she hasn't been found guilty for any of the murders. In fact, she's been no where near any of the victims during their time of death."

Cornfields rushed past the window of the car as it sped down some mid-American highway in the late afternoon. ACDC sounded from the stereo as the car made its way down the road.

"Sammy, we can't keep going with all these detours. What about finding dad. And the demon that killed mom."

"Amelia Carson, twenty five years old, here's a photo-" Sam turned his laptop to face his brother. "Interested now?"

A freckled girl smiled back at them, her dark hair framed a pale face with round eyes of the most peculiar colors. Two different eyes, one a mixture of greens and blues and another a conglomerate of honey browns.

"Says here she works at the Chester library." Dean smirked. "Maybe something for you."

Sam shook his head, but Dean could still see a slight smile on his lips.

"Yeah maybe that Chester place needs some looking at." Dean toys. "For all professional purposes, of course."

"Of course."

The boys sat still for a moment, nothing to be heard other than the chorus of 'You Shook Me All Night Long' coming from the Impala's speakers.

"Tell me, Sammy." Dean grinned. "Which way to North Dakota?"

By the time they pulled onto the dirt road that displayed the wooden sign that said "Welcome to Chester" it was six at night.

"I'd say we head to the library first, see if we can catch her at her job." Sam proclaimed.

"Maybe she needs a ride home." Dean cut the car's engine.

"Dude, I'm not hooking up." Sam argued, but his brother just rolled his eyes.

"She's a hot nerd. And you're a nerd. It's perfect." He gave Sam a playful shove. "Now come on, lets find the building of your strange-ass species. Because if there's anything weirder then monsters and demons its educated dorks in a library."

This time Sam was the one to roll his eyes. They exited the Impala and slammed the doors behind them with just enough force to get people to see who showed up. It's not often Chester gets visitors.

The brothers took a steady pace up the library steps, towards the brick building that might contain the girl they are looking for. The crisp mountain air was brisk and nipped at the bare skin of their faces.

The door opened with a small squeak, and the interior smelt of books new and old. Musky and full of knowledge to unanswered questions.

The front desk was not crowded, one man stood behind it helping a line of three people. He was a middle aged man with a scruffy beard- certainly not the person they're looking for.

Dean strided up to the man, cutting off the line of townsfolk in the meantime.

"Is a Miss. Amelia Carson in today?" He asked in his gruff and assertive voice.

The man behind the counter turned to face him, annoyed by the interjection. "I'm with a customer right now."

Dean, clearly dissatisfied by the reply, sharpened his tone a bit. "You do realize the time it took you to say that you could have answered my question."

"Dean," Sam warned.

The man ignored him until he finished his transaction, which was prolonged in order to bother the brothers even more. His breath smelt like stale cigars and his plaid button down was only half tucked in.

"Amelia Carson, she's in. Working over in section two." He said, warily, pointing a pudgy finger towards the back. "Why do you ask?"

Dean shrugged. "Old friends, just wanted to say hi." He pats the worker on the back. "Thanks buddy."

The two boys made their way to the section of the library labeled 'Two', and as suspected the girl they sought was there. She sat behind a heavy wooden desk, on a folding chair, a landline phone jammed between her shoulder and ear. She wore a grey henley and burgundy jeans with converses that were bedecked in sharpie doodles. An artsy girl, whimsical and a bit frazzled.

"There's the pretty lady," Dean nudged Sam. "Come on."

"You better not embarrass me, or I swear I will-"

"What. You will what Sammy?" Dean jested.

Sam's eyes pleaded with his brother. "Let's just keep this relatively professional, okay?"

"Sure thing, Lover Boy."

The pair reached the desk as she was finishing her call.

"-yes. Okay. I'll put it on hold for you. You too. Bye." The fragments of her conversation could be heard.

She looked up, her peculiar eyes glistening at the two men before her.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"Are you Amelia Carson?" Dean replied with a question of his own.

When she smirked the freckles on her face bunched up with the creases in her checks in a quirky kind of beautiful.

"Yes."

"Then yes, you can help us."


	2. Chapter 2

**Next installment- hope you like it! Don't forget to leave a review :)**

"The most recent was my aunt," the girl stated firmly, a thin glassy sheet of tears covering her ever-changing eyes. "I'm obviously not it the mood for questions, I've been getting them from the local police all week. You said you were from the state police department, right?"

The brothers nodded and stood silently, watching Amelia as she stared at her desk, her fingers playing with a loose strand of her shirt. An anxious habit brought out by stress.

"We're very sorry about your loss m'am," Sam assured her. Dean nodded in agreement. They hate watching people mourn their loved ones, it was one of their least favorite parts of the job and it never got easier. Recovery couldn't be learnt like hunting could.

"She was practically my mother, you know?" She managed. "My parents died in a car crash, you see, when I was a baby. So Aunt Harriet raised me all my life. And now she's dead, just like my entire goddam family." The last words were spit with an angry venom, bitter and unwanted in her mouth and her mind.

She brought her hand to her forehead, drawing up her shirt as her body shifted. A thin, pale patch of skin above her waistline, revealing a small tattoo of a rather interesting thing. A black ink tattoo of a pentagram.

Dean nudged Sam to get his attention, and flicked his eyes towards the woman's hip. If someone didn't know better, they would think the boys were perverts. But there were other reasons to stare at the pentagram on the girl's skin, reasons other then the usual.

"Um, Amelia?" Sam questioned in an almost awkward tone.

The girl looked at him inquisitively. "Yes"

"What made you get that tattoo?" He gestured to the piece of art on her waist, strikingly contrasting the white skin it was drawn on.

"Oh," she answered, embarrassed, fumbling to pull her shirt down to cover the thing.

"No, not in that kind of way," Sam felt a heat in his cheeks, regretting the question he has asked. But he had to know, he had to. "Just the pentagram, what led you to get that?"

She shifted in her position, her finger continuing to play with the shirt thread in a nervous fashion. "Well my aunt, she was kind of a nut." Amelia let out a breathy laugh, shaky and passive. "She believed in all sorts of nonsense- paranormal things, like demons and spirits. She made me wear a pentagram as a kid, to 'protect me'," she air-quoted the last two words to emphasize the ridiculousness of the topic. "I got it tattooed when I was old enough, just to keep it on me forever. But it's all stupid anyways. She was kind of a loon."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, tossing the words of the girl over and over in their minds.

"Amelia, where was your aunt when she passed?"

The girl straightened. "She just returned home from a business trip."

Once again the brothers made eye contact. This was something too familiar to them, something too similar to vs a coincidence.

"Business trip?" Dean persisted. "What did she do for a living?"

"A whole bunch of jobs," she said. "And she came home and a few hours later was murdered."

Her tone was heavy and angry, full of wrath.

"Murdered. Fucking dead just like everyone else." She dug her nails into the wooden desk. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"We understand," Sam stated, remorse thick in his voice. "Now Amelia, we have to ask you for something."

"What?" The word was barely choked out through uneasy breaths.

"The town files for missing persons. Disappearances, murders. Everything you've got here. We're going to help find this killer."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! **Hope you're enjoying it so far- its kind of boring right now but it will get more involved soon :)**

**Don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you think!**

"I'll be right back with those," she declared, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm herself.

She turned to head for the storage rooms, a closet heavy with cobwebs and old town files that were rarely used. 'Maybe these would be the people who solve it' she thought. That made her happy. Happier.

"Dean," Sam hissed at his brother. "Pentagram, business trips? Sounding familiar?"

Dean, who was preoccupied with a young woman in some rather tight pants, nodded. "Looks like Auntie's part of her own family business."

Sam snapped his fingers, trying to get his brother's attention. "Focus, Dean. So her parents died, when she was a baby," he reiterated. "You think she was hunting whatever that was?"

"I think there's something bigger," Dean adjusted his leather jacket. "Once she brings us the records we can see what's happening here in little postcard town."

"If she's a hunter..."

"So what if she's a hunter?" He asked. "Not the first time you're meeting one in the flesh."

"But what are the odds, really? Coming all this was to find someone like us."

Dean sat down on a wooden chair, the wood creaking from being worn and say upon over years. "We've seen slimmer odds in this crazy-ass world."

Amelia was coming back, files being pushed on a metal cart that had a squeaky wheel and one that didn't quite turn the right way when spinning. Three bins piled high with material.

The cart came to a stop and she patted the bins with satisfaction.

"Every missing persons account, dating back to 1850." She stated and plopped back down into her metal chair. "See anything that strikes and interest and I'm here."

Dean nudged his brother and raised his eyebrows at the woman. "We see something that strikes our interest all right,"

Sam shot Dean a death-glare.

"Awe how cute," She said smugly. "Now you can hit on me or get to work, Officer Friendly. While you're at it, look for some dignity- I heard that went missing too."

Sam turned to the table to take a seat while Dean bit his lower lip and shook his head.

"You're right Dean," he uttered in a voice only his brother could hear, still laughing from the back talk. "I think I do like her, just a bit."

"Hey Sammy, get to work." He tried to change the subject.

Sam smiled. "Sure thing, Officer Friendly."

"Yeah yeah real funny. She's a pistol, that one."

The evening passed as the boys looked though files one by one, sorting through each case with precision. A slow and tedious job, no matter what the outcome.

"Dean, get this." Sam announced. "In the past week, the four murders are all tied to someone in relations with Amelia. But there's been more before that too."

"Like I said, wacko serial killer."

"I don't know." Sam flipped though the papers. "Check this out- other then her parents death, the first killing happened when she was four. Tell me, could a four year old kill a person?"

"Maybe someone just hates the family."

"Or something. But that's not it- it's not just family. It's every family, friend, neighbor, anything with connections."

"So you think the girl's cursed?"

"I don't know." Sam admitted. "I wonder what time she gets off tonight."

"That's the spirit Sammy," Dean smirked, only to be kicked under the table.

"We're here on business."

"You and I have a very different view on business." He said, giving Sam a pat on the shoulder.

Darkness pooled in from the windows, and moonlight made patterns the danced across the wooden floors. Dust could be seen floating through the air as people began making their way to the front desk to check out.

For most people, the night was winding down. But then again, the Winchesters aren't like most people.


End file.
